


Teamwork

by coffeeinallcaps



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Banter, Blow Jobs, Crack, Explicit Sexual Content, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 14:15:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3981136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeeinallcaps/pseuds/coffeeinallcaps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's not even all that surprised when he suddenly finds himself trapped between the wall and the warm line of Harry's body, with his head clasped between Harry’s hands and Harry's tongue in his mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teamwork

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [on Tumblr](http://coffeeinallcaps.tumblr.com/post/119211836446/tell-us-about-something-youre-good-at).

Harry wakes up in a Kentucky hospital bed with a minor concussion and a sizeable bump on the back of his head.

The short version of the story is as follows: Valentine missed; fake blood always comes in handy; doing a trust fall with no one there to catch you is inadvisable, to say the least.

The long version of the story is detailed in the mission report he hands over to Merlin two and a half months late, after several increasingly ominous final warnings.

Harry wheedles a nurse into booking him a place on the first possible flight back to London. He spends nine hours napping and the remaining three thinking of what to say once he arrives on Eggsy’s—no,  _his own_ , damn it—doorstep.

When push comes to shove, he settles for, “Well, well, Galahad. Moving awfully fast here, don’t you think?”

Eggsy raises an eyebrow at him. “We just crashing here till I find a place for Mum and Daisy,” he says, gently bouncing the little girl on his arm. “Also, you was dead, remember?”

It feels good to be home.

 

Harry patently refuses to rise to the Arthurian position. He also throws a (dignified and completely justified, thank you) hissy fit about his protégé inheriting his codename while his corpse was still warm. Literally. Eggsy is acting all smug about it, the cheeky bastard. As some of their colleagues did manage to die a permanent death on V-Day, Harry gets assigned a snazzy new codename to reduce the paperwork.

“Do not think for one moment that I shall forget about this, _Galahad_ ,” he tells Eggsy under his breath during the assembly.

“Try me, old chap,” Eggsy whispers back to him.

Yes, it feels _very_ good to be home.

 

* * *

Eggsy is glad Harry didn’t bite the dust for real. If he had, they’d never have found out that they run like a well-oiled machine. In the field, but, as it turns out, in bed as well.

On missions, they complement each other perfectly. Harry’s constrained, elegant fighting style balances out Eggsy’s brash velocity; Eggsy’s razorsharp problem-solving skills balance out Harry’s penchant for impatience. They keep each other on their toes, always have each other’s backs. Before long, they’re sent on more joint than solo ops.

And before long, they’ve lived through so many intimate and compromising situations together

(off the top of Eggsy’s head: the boot of a truck in Marrakesh; several hours in that stranded service lift in Washington, D.C.; and shit, he still can’t think about what happened in Bucharest without flushing all over)

and pretended to be lovers for mission purposes often enough that when it finally happens, sex feels like a natural progression from, not to mention a tremendous relief after, all the Unresolved Sexual Tension that has been building up between them.

 

After one such undercover operation, and after several glasses of their mark’s expensive champagne (thanks mark, much appreciated), Eggsy, inhibitions loosened like Harry’s tie, pets the silk lapel of Harry’s suit jacket as they’re walking back to their hotel room arm in arm—gotta keep up those pretenses—and coos, “Very well done, husband mine. Yet another mission accomplished.”

Someone from housekeeping, heading in the opposite direction, ogles them with disapproval.

Harry does what he always does in situations like these. He wraps his arm around Eggsy’s waist to pull him closer, says, “Certainly, my dearest,” and kisses his temple.

The man sniffs, mutters something unintelligible under his breath as he walks past them, and that’s it; Harry goes rigid against Eggsy’s side. Eggsy can _feel_ him shift into ‘you dun GOOFED, motherfucker’ mode.

He’s not even all that surprised when he suddenly finds himself trapped between the wall and the warm line of Harry’s body, with his head clasped between Harry’s hands and Harry’s tongue in his mouth.

It’s not like they’ve never kissed on an undercover operation before. They even did the whole open-mouthed kissing thing once, it was ace. They’ve never kissed _after_  an undercover operation, though, and certainly never with this much fervour.

Eggsy stands his ground. _Yeah, mate, let’s stick it to that arsehole_ , he thinks, threading his fingers into Harry’s unbelievably soft hair and tugging until Harry lets out a low noise and pulls back just enough for Eggsy to suck Harry’s bottom lip into his mouth, sink his teeth into it. Harry moans and presses closer, the bulges of the growing erections in their trousers touching, Eggsy’s hips twitching forwards—

The arsehole from housekeeping has already ridden the lift down fifty floors and picked up his signature caramel macchiato from the Starbucks around the corner of the hotel by the time Harry takes a step back to look at Eggsy, chest heaving. He’s still cupping Eggsy’s face.

“Wow,” Eggsy says, trying to catch his breath. “We sure showed that prick, huh?”

Harry nods, and then they’re kissing again, hands everywhere.

 

By the time they reach their hotel room, both their shirts are already unbuttoned. This proves to be highly efficient, because it means Eggsy can kick the door shut behind them while Harry pushes Eggsy’s suit jacket and shirt off his shoulders, and then Eggsy can push Harry’s suit jacket and shirt off  _his_  shoulders while crowding him backwards towards the bed.

(This exact moment is what he’ll be reminded of the next time Arthur proudly states that Eggsy and Harry are the finest example of teamwork she’s witnessed in her lengthy career.)

“Guess this was bound to happen sometime,” Eggsy says as he straddles Harry’s lap. Harry responds by hooking his fingertips behind Eggsy’s jaw and starting a path of kisses from the corner of Eggsy’s mouth via his jawline and down the side of his neck to his collarbone.

“Well, it took you longer than I’d expected.” One of Harry’s warm hands slides down Eggsy’s spine, just enough hint of fingernails to make Eggsy’s skin erupt in goose bumps. He involuntarily arches forwards, grinding their crotches together. Harry’s breath hitches.

“What?” Eggsy scoffs. “Why would I have to be the one to make the first move? ‘A gentleman don’t initiate sex’, that it?”

“Not when—” Harry says, briefly pressing the back of his hand to Eggsy’s cheek, and just when Eggsy is beginning to wonder if they’re going to have slow, intense, achingly tender sex tonight, with Harry gazing lovingly into his eyes and whispering endearments into his ear (for the record: he ain’t  _not_  into this idea, it’s just that the snogging session in the corridor had suggested differently, is all), Harry’s hands close around his wrists and Eggsy is thrown onto his back in the middle of the bed, arms above his head, Harry looming over him.

“Alright, old man, show me what you got,” Eggsy says, because now Harry is looking at him like he wants to fuckin’ wreck Eggsy. Which probably shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does. Or maybe it should. Anyway, Harry recognizes the challenge for what it is; he covers both of Eggsy’s wrists with one hand and reaches down with the other one, feeling Eggsy through his trousers before starting on his fly.

“Aw, yeah.” Eggsy lifts his hips so that Harry can push his trousers and underwear down. It’s kinda awkward, what with Harry still pinning his wrists above his head and leaning over him and all, but once Harry gets his trousers past his arse he manages to kick them off.

While Harry gets rid of his own remaining clothes, still not letting go of Eggsy’s wrists, Eggsy shifts a little, gets comfortable. Enjoys the sight of Harry’s flushed face, the way his hair is hanging in his eyes, the rapid rise and fall of his broad, smooth chest.

Eggsy is fully expecting either a) Harry’s hand wrapped around his cock or b) Harry’s cock pressed up against his any second now, so it comes as a shock when Harry instead straddles him again, hovering over Eggsy on all fours—well, on all threes, more like, ’cause he’s got his hand wrapped around his _own_ cock.

“What?” Eggsy breathes, staring at where the head of Harry’s dick is peeking up through the circle of his hand. “That—Harry, no, that ain’t fair!”

Harry smiles deviously and leans down to press their lips together again. Which mollifies Eggsy for exactly half a second, until Harry starts thrusting into his hand and gasping into Eggsy’s mouth. It sends hot sparks of lust through him from the tips of his fingers all the way down to his toes, but it  _ain’t_   _fair_ because he’s trapped under Harry and he can’t touch himself this way. He don’t even have a proper view of Harry’s beautifully thick cock, damn it.

“Harry,” he moans—whines—against Harry’s lips.

Harry tries to distract him by licking into Eggsy’s mouth again.  _Not this time, bruv_ , Eggsy thinks as he pulls one hand free and touches the back of Harry’s head, allowing himself to kiss back for just a moment before fisting his hand into Harry’s hair and freeing his other wrist, easily flipping Harry around and then straddling his waist and pinning his arms to his sides.

“Right,” Harry says, blinking up at him. His eyes are dark, his hair wild, his mouth wet. God, he looks perfect. “Well then. You copied my move. Very impressive.”

“Oh, shut up,” Eggsy says. “You’re a selfish prick. Tossing yourself off without paying any regard to your sex partner. Kingsman would be ashamed.”

“I was just thinking ahead,” Harry says innocently. “See, your stamina is probably—”

Eggsy quickly rocks backwards, the tip of Harry’s dick bumping between his arse cheeks. Harry chokes back a moan.

“Yeah, thought I’d stop you right there,” Eggsy says. “Alright, so speaking of thinking ahead, how d’ya wanna do this?”

“I’ve been thinking of letting you fuck me,” Harry says. “Or fucking you. Honestly, I’m not fussy.”

His calm, conversational tone of voice sends another cascade of sparks through Eggsy. “Did you bring anything?” he asks, his own voice embarrassingly breathy compared to Harry’s.

Harry gives him a look.

“Seriously? What kinda person don’t bring lube and condoms on a mission?” Eggsy says incredulously.

Harry gives him another look.

Eggsy sighs. “OK, I didn’t bring anything either. But there gotta be  _something_ we can—”

“Oh, there’s something, alright,” Harry says, twisting his wrists out of Eggsy’s grip and taking hold of his hips. He pulls, and Eggsy almost topples over, braces his hands on either side of Harry’s head to stop himself from falling onto Harry’s face. Except that turns out to be exactly what Harry wanted, in a way, ’cause he pulls Eggsy’s hips up a little more and then down so that he can lean in and suck the tip of Eggsy’s cock into his mouth.

Fuck, that’s good. “Oh,  _fuck_ , that’s good,” Eggsy breathes, his body moving forwards of its own accord. Harry moans around his cock, half pleasure and half warning, and Eggsy hangs his head, a  _sorry_ dying a very quick death on his lips as Harry tugs at his hips again, takes him down further. It’s hot and wet and tight and Eggsy’s  _dick_ is in Harry Hart’s  _mouth_. His mind is reeling. It’s all he can do to stay in position while Harry swallows around him, steering Eggsy’s hips with one steady, sure hand.

Harry’s other hand, Eggsy realises, his stomach jolting, flooding with heat, is wrapped around his own dick again. Eggsy’s fucking dick is in Harry Hart’s mouth while Harry is tossing himself off—this is not a drill, this is not a fantasy, this is the real fucking thing, alright.

He can’t keep in his desperate moans no more. Harry seems to like them, though, his throat vibrating around Eggsy in response, so Eggsy stops trying to choke them back altogether.

By the time Harry takes hold of his hips with both hands again and eases Eggsy off him, Eggsy feels like he’s dangerously close to having an out-of-body experience. He’s so far gone he can’t do nothing but stare dumbly as Harry—cock flushed dark, wet with precome, fuck—repositions himself onto his stomach and reaches behind him. He tugs at Eggsy’s side until Eggsy gets the hint and slots himself against Harry’s back, his spit-slick cock sliding between the bottoms of Harry’s arse cheeks.

There’s almost too much friction at first, Harry’s skin too dry, but he’s so close to coming it don’t even matter. Harry is close too, making all these beautiful noises under him, moving against the mattress in time with Eggsy’s thrusts. He’s the first to stiffen, stifling his moan in the pillow.

Harry’s hand flexes by his side, and there’s something about that—about the sight of Harry digging his elegant fingers helplessly into the covers because of an orgasm Eggsy fucked out of him—that sends Eggsy over the edge. He lets his head drop down, presses an open-mouthed kiss to Harry’s sweaty shoulder blade, his entire body shuddering, bites down as he comes into the hot tight space between Harry’s thighs.

“Fuck _me_ ,” he mumbles against the bite mark he’s left on Harry’s skin.

“Mmm,” Harry says, rolling onto his side, dragging Eggsy’s arm around his waist to pull him along. “Next time.”

**Author's Note:**

> The other title I considered was _There's no I in Team (But There's a U in Suck)_ , so hey, at least it's not that!
> 
> Come hang out with me [on Tumblr](http://coffeeinallcaps.tumblr.com).


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